


Workplace Sinergy

by egocentrifuge



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Humiliation kink, M/M, Multi, Oh yes, PWP, excuse me while I reread my own fic to remember what depravity it contains, holy shit guys there's so much fucking porn, implied OT7, oh boy there are so many kinks in this, there's brief baby boy/daddy dom, there's collars and spreader bars and bondage, there's exhibitionism, there's fisting, there's more stuff being recorded, there's sex being recorded, there's subspace, there's watersports desperation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right before a convention is always the worst time in the office. Every day feels like another rubberband being added to the watermelon, every interaction just as likely to end in side-splitting laughter as in stomach-churning anger. Right before a convention is always the worst time in the office for Joel and his humiliation kink, because nothing says I’m Not Taking You Seriously like an inopportune erection.</p><p>---</p><p>“We can make him watch,” Matt offers casually, as if James isn’t even there. “It would serve him right after what he did to poor Adam.”</p><p>James flicks his eyes to Adam, who’s watching Matt with rapt attention.</p><p>“Would you like that, Adam?” Lawrence asks. “Me and Matt fucking you while James is forced to watch, hands tied so he can’t even touch himself?”</p><p>James thinks, for the first time, that he may have gotten in over his head, but Matt is grinning and Lawrence is so calm and Adam’s blushing bright red and James thinks he’s probably okay with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Three PWP's from tumblr. Second chapter will be the Matt/Adam/James/Lawrence goodness, once I actually write it :x
> 
> TW for Sean walking into a situation he thinks is non/dub con. It's resolved quickly, but there's a few moments of doubt.

Bruce is pacing in the room ranting about YouTube comments when Joel feels the first twinge. He tries to ignore it, push it down, but Bruce is so mad and so vocal and he keeps looking at Joel like Joel needs to offer up a solution or be lumped in with the blame and it’s impossible to keep the flush from starting at his navel and spreading up his chest.

“I mean, listen to this,” Bruce demands, glaring at a comment on their latest Q&A. “‘It’s like Joel doesn’t even want to be funny – he bitches about stupid questions and yet he has nothing but worthless answers. They need to put him back in his cage and only trot him out when something needs a woman’s touch.’”

Joel fiddles with his pen. “That’s awfully rude,” he manages. His voice sounds strained even to his own ears, and Bruce looks up sharply to stare at Joel.

Joel cycles through a few expression before settling on mildly curious. Bruce narrows his eyes, tilts his head, and—fuck, spots Joel’s erection.

“Joel,” Bruce says. “Are you getting off on this?”

“No?” Joel hazards, then in response to Bruce’s raised eyebrows, “Yes. Yes, I absolutely am.” Bruce looks so openly delighted that Joel can’t bring himself to be that torn up about it all.

Or least, he can’t, until Bruce drops his eyes to Joel’s lap and barks out a laugh.

“God, Joel,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I should have known you’d be into some weird shit. You’re fucked up, you know that?”

“Uh,” Joel says eloquently. His cock twitches. “You’re uh, you’re not helping the inappropriate erection thing.”

Bruce glances at Joel’s crotch again. “Oh?” he asks. “I couldn’t tell. Can hardly see your boner through your jeans.”

Joel feels a hot rush of shame and arousal. “Bruce,” he warns, trying to smile even though his skin burning with a blush. “I—I’m not joking, I don’t want to take advantage of—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bruce says, suddenly quiet. “If you want me to stop, you say so. Otherwise keep your mouth shut, you understand?”

“Bruce—” Joel starts.

“Can you not listen to instructions?” Bruce says evenly. “Are you trying to piss me off? Because let me tell you, you’re doing a great fucking job. You can’t even get off properly—you’re worthless.”

Bruce quirks a brow as Joel’s breathing turns ragged.

“Do you want me to keep going?” he asks. “Keep saying what everyone is thinking, but are too big of pussies to say?”

Joel takes in Bruce’s easy stance, the sharp focus of his gaze, and thinks, okay, this seems to be happening. He nods jerkily rather than speak and is rewarded with a smile that’s as much sneer as it is grin.

“God, look at you,” Bruce laughs. It’s as cold as he ever sounds—mean, distant. Joel muscles back a whimper. “You could come from this, couldn’t you? Just me telling you what a piece of shit you are.”

Joel’s stomach is churning with fear and longing in equal measure; it takes a monumental effort to shake his head. It feels like his balls are being squeezed in a vice when Bruce takes a single step closer, expression thunderous.

“I knew it,” he growls. “Fucking broken, that’s what you are. Touch yourself through your pants like the freak you are, Joel.”

Joel rushes to press the heel of his palm to his erection and grind down. This time he can’t stifle the soft groan, and Bruce seizes on this weakness immediately.

“You’re not even fit to be a fucktoy. Look at you, you’re trembling. You’d be worthless in bed. Not even good enough to keep my dick warm.”

Shamefully, horribly, Joel rubs himself through his jeans, listening to Bruce spout poison and vitriol in that low, dangerous tone he only gets when he’s truly mad. Every confrontation they’ve had comes flooding back, every jolt of shame Joel has ever had after realizing Bruce’s anger is getting him hard.

“Come on,” Bruce urges, crouching in front of him. “Do something right in your miserable life. Come for me.”

Joel is on the edge of tears and of orgasm and they’re both coming to a rapid head. He sucks in air rapidly.

“Do it, Joel, or I walk out of this door.”

The car teeters, rocks over the edge, and Joel is coming hard enough that his ears ring. He chokes oh a breath as the aftershocks fade and then, much to his horror, bursts into tears.

“Oh god,” he babbles, covering his face. “I’m sorry, I’m not—it was just intense…”

“Hey,” Bruce says, and for the first time in this entire weird thing, Bruce is touching him—one hand on each shoulder. “Joel, hey,” he repeats, and Joel peers through his fingers to see Bruce smiling brilliantly just in front of him.

“That was awesome,” Bruce says. Joel chokes out a wet laugh.

“You don’t have to lie. I know it's—I know it’s fucked up.”

“Joel,” Bruce says. “Are you kidding me? That was incredible. You're—god, you should have seen yourself.”

Joel rubs at his eyes furiously. “No thank you,” he mumbles. Bruce’s hands tighten on his shoulders.

“Hey, can I hug you?” he asks. “I really, really—”

Joel cuts Bruce off by wrapping his arms around Bruce’s back and clinging desperately. Bruce accepts this without question, though he does stand and pick Joel up before taking his place in the chair to cradle Joel on his lap.

“You’re so good,” Bruce soothes, rubbing Joel’s head. Joel feels a lot like he’s floating, a lot like he’s falling. “You did beautifully, Joel. You were beautiful for me.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks wetly. “Do I get to come out of the cage today, boss?”

Bruce chuckles against Joel’s neck before peppering the skin with kisses.

“You already came in the cage,” Bruce points out. Joel groans and buries his head harder against Bruce’s chest. He can feel Bruce’s heart beating almost as hard as his.

“That was intense,” Joel repeats. He hates how weak he sounds, but Bruce’s arms only tighten around him.

“I think we need a new pre-convention tradition,” Bruce muses. Joel laughs helplessly.

“Well, let me know, because I’m going to have to keep a change of pants in the office.”

Someone clears their throat pointedly at the door, but when Joel tries to break free of Bruce, his arms tighten like a vice to keep Joel in place.

“Sup, Kovic?” Bruce asks, propping his head on Joel’s. “Need something?”

Joel peers through the protective circle of Bruce’s arms to see Adam watching them with something like fondness on his face.

“I think I might have, but I’ve forgotten.” He shrugs before grinning. “Might want to light a match—it smells pretty incriminating in here.”

Joel’s face burns and, despite everything, his cock twitches in half-hearted interest. Bruce nods and flaps a hand for Adam to go.

“Go finish the thumbnails. I’ll be out for Q&A in a bit.”

Adam salutes lazily. “Okay, bossman. Joel.”

“Yeah,” Joel says weakly. As soon as the door is shut, Bruce starts laughing. Joel groans.

“Things are going to be weird now, aren’t they?”

“No weirder than usual,” Bruce muses. “I mean, look at Adam and James.”

Joel opens his mouth to ask, decides it’s better if he doesn’t know, and contents himself to sit and soak up Bruce’s warmth. It’s a good while before Bruce tightens his arms slightly before leaning back.

“You good if I go?” he asks. Joel, who had honestly been drifting off, blinks blearily.

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be, I’ll be here, doing… whatever it is that I was doing earlier.”

Bruce’s laugh rumbles through them both before Bruce is helping Joel back into his seat and following Adam.

“Joel,” he says at the door. Joel looks up from his bleary examination of his screen.

“Yeah?”

“You want to get lunch after this?”

Joel grins. “I may have to swing home to get some new pants, but sure.”

Bruce’s smile is wicked. “That’s perfect.”

All in all, it’s not a bad way to diffuse the pre-convention stress.

\----------

“Hey, Joel,” Bruce starts, and Joel startles so badly he literally grabs his monitor and “closes” it onto his keyboard like a laptop. He’s lucky there’s enough slack in the cables to not pop them out of the tower, but he still winces when he realizes what he’s done.

“Uh,” he says. Bruce stares at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. What were you looking at, kiddy porn?”

Joel makes a face as he rights his monitor. He’s navigated away from the page, thank god, so the new tab window in chrome hides his shame. “That’s disgusting, Bruce. Of course not.”

“Then why’d you nearly crack your computer in half, huh?” Joel is too busy trying to fix the tilt of the monitor to notice when Bruce gets up. It isn’t until Bruce’s arms bracket him against the desk that Joel realizes what’s happening. He tries to twist to freedom but Bruce holds him fast as he uses his free hand to pull up Joel’s history.

“No, Bruce!” Joel cries. “No, no, don’t do this, you don’t want to see—”

“What the fuck, Joel?” Bruce laughs. “There’s no porn. Just a bunch of videos from ETC’s…”

He clicks the latest link. Fucking YouTube dutifully resumes Joel’s position in the video, which means Bruce’s face pops up mid-rant as he narrates some neck-beard’s vitriol.

Joel blushes with his entire body as Bruce pieces what this means together.

“Were you imagining it was you?” he asks finally, voice low. He still has his arm around Joel’s chest, is still practically pinning him against the table.

Joel is too ashamed to do anything but nod. Bruce’s arm tightens around him before he leans back and returns to his desk. He turns back to his computer without saying anything more; Joel watches him resume work, utterly baffled.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Joel pulls it out rather than watch Bruce ignore him.

As if you’d ever have the balls to reject me, the message preview says. It’s from Bruce. As Joel stares, eyes wide, more texts start flooding in.

You’d be fucking lucky to have me.

Everyone else is too disgusted with your sick fucking kinks that they can’t bear to even be around you.

You’re not fit to clean my feet with your mouth.

Joel doesn’t realizing he’s stopped breathing until spots start dancing in his vision. He puts the phone down and presses his legs together tightly, willing his erection to go away.

He barely catches Bruce’s soft laugh before his phone stops vibrating, leaving Joel mortified and confused and so turned on his ears are ringing.

“Oh, I remember what I was going to ask you,” Bruce says suddenly, as if nothing has happened. “Can you get the latest GTA stream up on our channel?”

Joel has to swallow a few times before he can speak.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks, Joel.” Bruce says cheerfully. “You’re the best.”

Joel stares at the video on his screen for a long moment before standing abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Bruce calls.

“Bathroom.”

“Joel, wait.”

Joel looks back to see Bruce extending something towards him. His lips are quirked.

“Take your phone.”

\----------

“Spoole, can you go get Bruce and Joel?” Adam says. Sean looks up from where he’s editing, spots the time, and winces. 

“Time for the livestream,” he sighs. “Yeah, do you know where they are?“ 

Adam rolls his eyes heavenward. “God only knows. Check Joel’s office first.” 

Sean stretches as he pulls off his headphones and stands. He doesn’t see either Bruce or Joel on the way to Joel’s office, and when he knocks on the bathroom door an unfamiliar voice answers, so he continues to Joel’s office expecting to find them there. 

That’s why he doesn’t pause when he hears Bruce’s voice through the closed door, just opens it and walks in. 

“–you worthless piece of–” Bruce is saying. He stops abruptly as Sean walks in. 

“That was mean,” he says. “You’re not bullying Joel, are you?“ 

It’s then that Sean actually registers what he’s seeing. Bruce is leaning against the far wall with his hands in his pockets, face twisted in a sneer, and Joel is… 

Joel is… 

“What?” Sean says. 

There’s a flurry of activity as Joel stuffs his–his boner back into his slacks and Bruce pushes off the wall to block Sean’s line of sight. 

“Spoole,” he says smoothly. “What’s up?“ 

He seems so casual that Sean finds himself answering. 

"It’s almost three o'clock, it’s time for the livestream,” he says, then, “What are you doing?" 

"Don’t worry about it,” Bruce says. 

“I’m worrying about it,” Sean admits. His voice sounds squeaky even to his own ears. “Were you–Joel, are you okay? Was Bruce…?" 

He doesn’t know how to ask his friend if their other friend who is also ostensibly their boss was forcing him to touch himself while said boss is still standing in the room. Joel stands up from behind his desk, beet red, but with his hands outstretched. 

"It was consensual,” he says. Sean stares at him until Bruce moves again, taking a step towards Sean. Sean takes a step back.

“Are you sure?” he asks. It’s strange to make his voice hard when he’s looking at Bruce, but Sean feels sick to his stomach and needs to know that Joel is okay. 

“I’m sure, Sean. I promise." 

More than Joel’s words, it’s the wounded expression that slams across Bruce’s face that puts Sean at ease. 

Well, relatively at ease. He still doesn’t know what’s going on and is, truth be told, deeply unsettled. 

"What exactly… were you consenting to?" 

Bruce moves away to let Sean see Joel, seeming to sense that his protection is doing more harm than good. Now that Sean can see him, it’s obvious that Joel is still hard in his pants. He looks away abruptly. 

"It’s,” Joel says helplessly. “Have you heard of the humiliation kink?" 

Sean inspects the far wall rather than look at either Bruce or Joel. 

"No,” he says. He sees Joel running his hands through his hair anxiously from the corner of his eye. 

“It means I get off when someone trash talks me, basically,” he finally sighs. “And Bruce is really fucking good at it." 

Sean risks a glance at Bruce, who’s watching Joel with poorly concealed worry. 

"Bruce?” Sean says. His eyes snap to Sean. “Is that, is that true?" 

"What, you still think I’m taking advantage?” he asks, voice sharp. “I’m not going to justify what Joel is into for you, Spoole." 

"Bruce,” Joel says, but Sean doesn’t back down. 

“I don’t need justification–you’re both, you’re both adults, it’s none of my business.” Sean takes a deep breath. “I just, you’re my friends.” He deflates. “I… wanted to make sure." 

For a long moment Bruce says nothing, then he eases the set of his shoulders and offers Sean a small smile. 

"I’m glad you care, Sean. I probably would have decked you had I walked in on the same thing, so… thanks." 

"Why are you both assuming I’d just let myself be taken advantage of?” Joel complains. Sean huffs out a laugh but freezes when Bruce looks over at Joel sharply. 

“Because you know your place, Rubin,” he growls. Sean finds his eyes drawn back to Joel and gets to see him shudder before he meekly sits back down.

“Oh,” Sean says, stomach fluttering. “Oh, so that’s, okay.” He can’t help but jump when Bruce puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you good, Spoole?” he asks. Sean drags his eyes away from where Joel’s taking shallow breaths. Bruce’s face is guarded, but still concerned.

He doesn’t mean to let the door fall shut, but it does, and suddenly the scent of arousal is thick in the air.

“Can I,” Sean says. His voice cracks; he licks his lips and tries again. “I mean, if you’re both…?” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Bruce looks down at him carefully before his expression eases into something more commanding.

“Say it, Sean,” he orders softly. Sean swallows hard.

“I can’t,” he whispers. The hand on Sean’s shoulder tightens. 

“Say it,” Bruce insists.

“Can I, can I stay?” 

“Why do you want to stay?”

Sean feels like he’s drowning. He’s mortified and Joel’s breathing is so loud and so shallow and Bruce is looking at him like he expects something and it’s so hard, so hard to find his voice.

“I-I want to watch,” he admits. It feels like Bruce is reaching into his chest to pull out the confession. “I want to watch Joel touch himself while, while you…” He gasps and presses his hands over his mouth.

“While I what?” Bruce prompts. His voice is low, encouraging, and Sean can smell his arousal.

“While you hu… humiliate him,” Sean chokes out.

“While I tell him what he’s worth,” Bruce continues. “That I’m not even going to watch him because I have something new to play with.”

Sean looks towards Joel and sees that he’s biting his lip while his hands work before Bruce touches Sean’s face gently and brings his gaze back to him.

“Would you like me to touch you, Spoole?” he asks warmly. “Now that I have someone worthwhile?”

Joel makes a choked sound somewhere between distress and arousal. Sean’s head spins.

“I’d, I’d like to touch you,” he manages. Bruce smiles oh so sweetly and moves his hand from Sean’s shoulder to unbutton his shorts.

“I’d like that, too,” he murmurs. “Go ahead.”

It almost feels like a dream when Sean reaches out and finds Bruce straining against his boxers to greet him. Sean can’t help but look down as he frees Bruce from the fabric and makes an embarrassing noise in his throat when he feels the precum already slicking the head.

“Okay?” Bruce asks softly, touching Sean’s cheek again. He nods furiously without looking up. Tentatively, he strokes down Bruce’s length.

“That’s good,” Bruce murmurs. “Very good, Sean, keep going.”

“Has Joel,” Sean finds himself asking, and automatically starts turning towards Joel again. Bruce stops him.

“Has Joel?” he repeats.

Sean lets out a shaky breath when he realizes Bruce is going to make him say it. It feels like his entire body is on fire when he forces the words out.

“Has Joel… touched you like this?”

“No,” Bruce says, still just as warmly. “Joel isn’t fit to touch me. Sometimes, if I pity him, I’ll come on his face, but that’s all he’s good for.”

Sean chokes on his gasp and his hand stutters in its movements. He immediately cringes, fearing Bruce turning his anger on him, but Bruce’s hands are soft in his hair.

“It’s okay, Sean. You’re doing beautifully, baby boy. Don’t worry about Joel—the trash will sort itself out.”

It’s absurd that Sean feels tears pricking at his eyes but he nods anyways, keeps stroking Bruce diligently. For a long moment the only sounds in the room are Joel’s harsh breaths and the sound of hands working on flesh before Sean feels something breaking inside of him.

“Can he, can he come?” he asks desperately. Bruce smiles at him. 

“Who?”

“J-joel,” Sean stutters. “Can you tell him to come? Please?”

Bruce cradles Sean’s face. 

“You’re so sweet, baby boy. Caring about him even though he’s worthless.”

“Please,” Sean insists. Bruce still seems like he’s waiting for something and Sean’s lust-addled brain makes a connection he didn’t know he knew.

“Please, Daddy,” he repeats.

Bruce’s breath escapes him in a long, content sigh and he’s pulling away from Sean, squeezing his neck softly as he crosses the room to Joel’s desk.

“Did you hear him?” he demands, voice suddenly dangerous. “Come, Joel. Come for Sean.”

Sean watches without breathing as Joel snaps his eyes to Sean’s before his face contorts in pleasure and shame. While he’s still jerking from aftershocks Bruce buries a hand in his hair and pulls Joel’s head back until his neck is arched beautifully. He comes silently, other hand moving deftly to stripe Joel’s face with cum.

Sean doesn’t notice he’s sliding down the wall until he hits the floor. He brings both hands up to cover his mouth before flinching at the heavy smell of arousal and tucking them under his arms. He feels cold and hot simultaneously and is pretty sure he’s a loud noise away from starting to cry when he sees Bruce press a reverent kiss to Joel’s forehead.

“Goddamn,” he hears Joel croak. Bruce’s answering laugh is full of the affection Sean didn’t know he was afraid was missing until just now.

“You were great,” he tells Joel. Sean feels the tension slowly release his stomach as Bruce looks over to smile at Sean.

“You too, Spoole—holy shit.”

“Yeah, Sean,” Joel adds. He’s in the process of wiping his face off with a tissue. “That was amazing. Are you sure you didn’t know what humiliation was until today?

Sean shakes his head wordlessly. He must look as overwhelmed as he’s feeling, because both Bruce and Joel move to join him on the ground.

"Hey,” Joel says, pulling Sean’s head into his thankfully clean lap. “You okay, buddy? We’re here.”

Bruce sits on the other side of Sean and starts massaging his calves. “I’m sorry I threw you into the deep end like that,” he says ruefully. “You were just—god, Spoole, if you could see how gorgeous you were.”

Sean lets their hands banish his trembling and finally, finally finds his voice. "’S good,“ he manages. "Feel good.”

Joel laughs beautifully and doesn’t stop even after the door opens.

“What the fuck, guys?” Lawrence grouches. “Stream was supposed to start five minutes ago. Get your asses into gear.”

Sean looks up blearily at Lawrence, who pauses.

“Aftercare?” he guesses. Sean is too tired to wonder how Lawrence pieced it together so quickly. He crouches in front of them and Sean tracks his face despite his weariness.

“You want to cuddle, Spoole?” he asks. Normally it’d be teasing, absurd, but he’s looking at Sean seriously.

“Yeah,” he confesses. “Yeah, that’s, that sounds good.”

Joel helps him sit up and swaps places with Lawrence before reaching down and pulling Bruce to his feet.

“I’ll stop back as soon as I get the stream up and running,” Joel promises. Bruce runs a hand through Sean’s hair. 

“You’ll be good with Lawrence?”

Sean considers the question. Lawrence’s chest is softer than Joel’s lap had been, and he’s simply holding Sean, not rubbing him at all. It’s honestly pretty perfect.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, go on. Adam’s going to be pissed.”

Bruce laughs as he shuts the door behind him, saying something about James and Matt Sean doesn’t quite catch.

“You have fun, buddy?” Lawrence asks as calm settles over the room. Sean burrows more deeply against Lawrence’s chest before nodding.

“Is it weird that I want to cry?” he asks hoarsely. Lawrence’s laugh is as warm as Bruce’s had been.

“Not at all. This your first time playing with them?”

Sean nods. “With anyone,” he adds softly. Lawrence hums; Sean feels it rumble through him and makes a pleased sound of his own without thinking.

“The important thing is communication,” Lawrence tells him. He sounds awfully far away. “Be honest about what gets you going, and what doesn’t, and everyone will do their damndest to show you a good time.”

“Everyone?” Sean mumbles sleepily. “It’s more than you, Bruce and Joel?”

Lawrence’s laugh feels like the world rocking Sean off to sleep. He misses Lawrence’s answer as the contentment drags him under.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Adam have their first encounter (in the past), everyone wants to blow Adam, and Lawrence blows Joel's mind. (there are some italics missing but I'll edit them in later)

“Come on,” Matt urges. “You can do one more.”

Adam’s entire body trembles as he bears down and pushes, giving everything he has to get the barbell to the rack. He feels lightheaded, he feels alive, and doesn’t fight it when Matt doesn’t let him slot the bench press into place.

“One more,” he says again. “Come on, Adam.”

A noise escapes Adam throat that he doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed about as the weight lowers onto his chest. Matt has to be supporting most of the weight, because Adam somehow manages to do another repetition.

“One more,” Matt says. The noise comes again, and this time it’s definitely a sob.

Still, Adam obeys, and makes a keening noise against his will once his elbows are extended. Matt finally takes mercy on him and slots the bar into place before disappearing from Adam’s hazy vision.

“I am Batman,” Adam wheezes. Matt’s laughter seems distant.

“You are,” he agrees. “That was great, Adam.”

Maybe it’s the ringing in his ears, but Adam could swear Matt’s voice sounds–huskier, somehow. He finds enough energy to lift his head and spots Matt standing at the end of the bench. His eyes are dark where he’s surveying Adam.

“Peake?” Adam rasps. Matt takes a step forward.

“I’d like to blow you.”

Adam drops his head back to the bench with a weak laugh. “Don’t,” he manages between gulps of air. “Don’t joke around, I’m too, too tired to laugh.”

“I’m not joking,” Matt says evenly. “But I won’t ask again if you’re not into it.”

It feels a lot like someone has put Adam’s head in a bell and rung it as hard as they could. He stares at the basement ceiling for lack of strength to look back at Matt.

“I mean,” he finally finds it within himself to say. “Who am I to turn down a blowjob?”

Matt’s hands land on Adam’s trembling knees and he would jump if he weren’t exhausted. He hears Matt kneel and tries to look down to see it, but it’s in vain. He’s too fucking worn out and all the available blood in his body seems to be occupied elsewhere.  
Matt pulls him from his shorts without preamble but pauses before doing anything. Adam breathes raggedly and focuses on not passing out.

“Are you sure?” Matt asks.

His fingers are around the base of Adam’s dick and if Adam had the energy he’d be angry at Matt’s gall.

“God yes,” he gasps instead, and in the next moment, Matt is swallowing him down.

As embarrassing as the noises Adam had made during his set were, the sounds he’s making now are worse. He whines as Matt works him hard and fast, using both of his hands and his mouth in conjunction.

It’s over practically before it began and all Adam can do to warn Matt before he’s coming is choke on a scream.

The next thing Adam knows there’s something at his lips and he opens his mouth obligingly, eagerly. He feels not a cock, but the mouth of a water bottle, and can’t help the disappointed huff that escapes him.

Matt laughs above him before getting an arm around Adam’s shoulders and pulling him into a sitting position. Adam immediately starts to sag back down to the bench, prompting Matt to settle in behind him without moving the water bottle.

“Come on,” he urges. “You need to stay hydrated.”

It’s in the same calm tone as before and Adam swallows automatically. He only stops when Matt pulls the bottle away.

“Easy,” he says, laughing again. Adam lets his head roll back onto Matt’s shoulder so he can see the smile on his face. He grins back dopily.

“Hi,” he says. Matt tilts his head, smile growing.

“Hi,” he echoes. “You okay?”

“Okay,” Adam agrees. Matt brings up a hand and runs it through Adam’s hair, heedless of the sweat plastering it to his head.

“You’re pretty spaced out, huh?” he asks.

“You’re pretty,” Adam retorts. He’s rewarded with a kiss for his efforts.

“I’m going to help you get upstairs, okay?” Matt says. Adam watches his lips move intently, wishing they’d touch his again. Instead, Matt moves away, and Adam feels his heart breaking. The tears start almost instantaneously.

“I’m here,” Matt says, and he is, pulling Adam into his arms and off of the bench. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Adam doesn’t register going up the stairs because Matt never stops talking in that low tone. Fuck if Adam can understand what he’s saying, but he seems to guess well enough what to do when hands urge him to lie flat, to curl into Matt’s side.

Adam latches on to the salty skin beneath his mouth and sucks on it until fingers pull him away, slip between his lips. It’s so much better to hold them in his mouth than to work on applying suction; Adam settles immediately.

When he comes to his senses, Matt is there with his laptop open on his knees. He has the index and middle fingers of his right hand in Adam’s mouth for some reason.

“Uhm,” Adam mumbles around them. Matt smiles broadly at him and moves the hand to run through Adam’s hair.

“How are you feeling?” he asks warmly. Adam considers the question, weighs it against the position they’re in and what he can remember.

“Like Bruce Wayne,” he says. It comes out as a rasp. Matt’s eyes widen in surprise before he snorts, seemingly involuntarily, and begins to laugh helplessly.

Adam watches him lose it with bone-deep contentment before he lets his eyes slide shut.

“I’m fucking tired,” he confesses when the laughter dies down. “I think you sucked my soul out of my body, Peake.”

“Your senses, at least,” Matt agrees. He scratches at Adam’s head. “You going to take a nap?”

Adam hums. “Yeah,” he decides, then cracks an eye open. “You don’t have to stay, I think I'm—I think I’m done with the, the thing.”

“Subspace,” Matt offers. He grins down at Adam. “I’m good here, if that’s okay.”

Adam closes his eyes again. “Sure,” he says. “If I can’t move my arms tomorrow you’re feeding me breakfast.”

“Sure,” Matt echoes. Adam falls asleep with Matt’s hands still in his hair.

\----------

“Do you think anyone has ever had sex up here?”

Adam looks up from his examination of the box full of test tubes. James has his phone pointed out of the window, recording people walking by on the street below as he wiggles the giant dildo at them.

“There’s not a lot of room,” Adam points out. “And it’s kind of dusty.”

“There’s a shower that may or may not work,” James insists. He lowers his phone to look over at Adam. “Plus, this thing.” He wields the dildo pointedly.

“That thing is unusably large,” Adam laughs. “And you couldn’t pay me enough money to use that shower.”

“Fifty bucks,” James offers.

“Deal.”

It’s meant as a joke, but James slings the dildo over his shoulder to reach for his wallet.

“James,” Adam laughs. “You’re not serious.”

“I think you’ll find that my friend–” He squints at the bill he’s pulled out. “Ulysses S. Grant is serious.”

“You have a fifty on you?”

“That’s why I offered it.”

Adam looks at where James is waving the money, glances at the Unbelievably Creepy Machinima Attic Shower, and weighs the possible content against possible staph infection.

“Okay,” he sighs. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

James is gentleman enough to insist they find a towel before Adam strips. They find a few discarded dish towels in the attic before James shoves his phone into Adam’s hands and heads downstairs to grab his towel from his gym bag.

That means Adam is left staring at the rusty showerhead and considering his life choices next to a blow up doll when James returns.

“Look,” he announces proudly. “I even got you some bodywash.”

“Gee, thanks,” Adam says dryly. “Now I have to actually shower instead of just getting wet and getting out.”

“Ulysses would be proud,” James says. Adam laughs and pulls his shirt over his head.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

He starts to climb into the shower, but James makes a face. “Your pants are going to get wet,” he says, sounding impossibly scandalized.

“We don’t even know that the shower works,” Adam starts, but James is giving him an openly worried face and Adam can’t help but give in.

“Oh my god, fine,” he snaps. “Keep that thing pointed above my waist.”

“You don’t want to make Peake have to blur out your tackle?” James laughs. Adam glares at him, and James rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay.”

Adam pulls his pants and boxers down in one motion just to get it over with and tosses them next to his shoes. He steps into the shower then.

“Blow up doll in or out?” he asks James. James laughs before propping the doll up to be in the shot.

“Perfect,” he says. “Turn that shower on, baby.”

Adam braces himself for a face full of lead-infused water and turns the handle.

Somewhere deep within the bowels of the office, a pipe shudders, groans… and gives up.

Adam lets out the breath he had been holding and turns to grin at the camera. “Fifty bucks richer,” he tells it and the disappointed James. “Go me!”

The door at the bottom of the stairs opens and before Adam can react James is stepping into the shower with him and pulling the door closed.

“James?” Adam asks. James puts a hand over his mouth.

“We’ll spook em,” he whispers gleefully. Adam pulls James’ hand away.

“In case you missed it, James, I’m naked,” he hisses. “And we’re two grown men in a shower. With a blow up doll.”

James pulls back slightly and looks down at Adam, seeming to notice for the first time that he had flattened himself against Adam’s naked body. Even in the dim light, Adam sees James’ cheeks flush. When he raises his eyes back to Adam’s face, there’s a new determination in them. He leans in to Adam’s ear.

“Can I blow you?” he asks. Adam blinks.

“What?”

“Can I blow you?” James repeats patiently. Adam swallows—well, that hadn’t exactly how he saw his morning going—but then blushes.

“Are you insane?” he hisses. “There’s someone out there.”

“So?” James asks. “We’ll be quiet.”

It’s so, so fucking stupid, but James’ eyes are dilated and whoever is in the attic is on the other side of the room.

“Is this, does this get you off?” Adam breathes. James’ lips quirk up and he looks suddenly bashful. Adam swallows and tilts his head back.

“Fine,” he whispers. “Fine, just…”

As soon as Adam acquiesces James squats and nuzzles into Adam’s crotch. He sucks in a deep breath and holds it; he’s never been quiet in bed, and being quiet in the shower is another thing entirely. He stares at the dusty ceiling and thinks about unsexy things like taxes and college as James mouths at the side of his cock.

There’s a thud and a muttered goddamnit from outside the shower. Adam looks down at James, alarmed.

“It’s Bruce,” he hisses. “My clothes are out there, he’ll see, he’ll know.”

James’ eyes flutter and, as Adam watches, he presses a hand against the front of his jeans.

Bad way to discourage an exhibitionist, Adam realizes then, and bites his lips as James begins blowing him in earnest.

Adam honestly has no idea when Bruce leaves, because he’s too busy trying to keep himself quiet to focus on anything more than his breathing. At some point James hitches one of Adam’s legs over his shoulders and moves lower to swirl his tongue around Adam’s asshole and he’s so completely unprepared that the moan tears out of him without warning.

James’s ministrations stutter and he has to break off to brace himself on Adam’s thigh. When Adam looks down, James is pulling his hand away from his crotch.

“Did you just,” Adam starts, but his words are swallowed by James diving in again.

By whatever luck or miracle, no one discovers them, not even when Adam nearly cracks his head on the shower when he throws his head back as he comes. James is immediately all over him, hands alternating between gripping his ass and stroking down his back as he buries his head in Adam’s neck.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mumbles. Adam brings up his hands to hold James loosely.

“Is this going to be a thing?” he asks. “You dragging me off places to have public sex?”

James hums against Adam’s neck. “Absolutely.”

Adam sighs, but can’t fight his smile. “Alright,” he says. “Next time, next time stop the camera, though.”

James freezes up before he curses softly and pulls away. His phone is at the feet of the blow-up doll, facing towards them, and James makes a face when he stops the footage.

“Remind me to edit that before I give it to Matt,” he mutters. “That’d be… awkward.”

“I don’t know,” Adam says tiredly. “Maybe he’d like it. He’s traditionally been a fan of situations that make other people uncomfortable.”

James looks up curiously. “You and Matt?” he asks. Adam shrugs.  
“Sometimes.”

“So I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes?”

Adam snorts and leans past James to open the shower door.

“Hell no,” he says as he steps out. The room feels almost chilly compared to their little cubicle. “We’re not… it isn’t about possession.” That’s when Adam realizes that his clothes aren’t where he left them, that someone had folded his pants and shirt and stuck them on top of a box. His underwear are nowhere to be seen.

“Goddamnit,” he whispers. “Bruce, you fucking asshole.”

The boxers come flinging out of a dark corner. Both Adam and James shriek and move towards each other as Bruce’s laughter rings out across the attic.

“Spooked ya,” he announces gleefully, stepping forward. Adam flicks off the phone in his hands before Bruce lowers it, shaking his head. “You’re fucking morons.”

“I’m not about to disagree,” Adam admits, blushing as he retrieves and pulls on his underwear. The rest of his clothes follow in quick succession while James and Bruce bicker about professionalism.

“We were filming for a short.”

“A porno?”

“No, a ghost thing.”

Bruce snorts. “What, did you need ectoplasm? Why was Adam naked in the shower?”

“People shower naked, duh.”

“Bruce,” Adam interrupts. “We’re sorry. Please don’t fire us.”

Bruce blinks. “That’d be hypocritical of me, considering James pulled this shit on me last week,” he says. “He’s a fucking fiend, Kovic, be careful.”

“You’re hurting my feelings,” James complains. Adam narrows his eyes.

“Are we all fucking?” he demands. “Like, I’m going to need a roll call of who is and isn’t so I can save my heart attack for when it’s justified.”

“Joel,” James says promptly.

“Lawrence,” Bruce admits.

Adam pinches the bridge of his nose. “Spoole and Peake,” he mutters. “Great, so we’re all in this together.”

“Great,” James echoes, rubbing his hands together. “What are we waiting for, then?”

He bounds off to do god knows what—corner one of the others, maybe, or simply hand his footage over to Peake.

“Lawrence doesn’t fuck in the office,” Bruce calls after James in warning.

“Whatever, dad!” James hollers. Adam doesn’t miss the way Bruce’s lips twitch at that.

“So this is what Inside Gaming has come to,” Adam sighs. Bruce shrugs.

“Could be worse,” he points out. “At least we’re all into it.”

Adam groans as he puts his shoes on. “This is not how an office should be run,” he complains. He jumps when Bruce’s hand lands on his back.

“Chin up, Kovic,” he says, and presses a chaste kiss to the side of Adam’s head. “It’s worked so far.”

\----------

James is in the middle of creating stupid graphics for their ghost hunter short when Matt taps him on the shoulder. He pulls off his headphones.

“Sup Peake?”

“Need a few more shots for the ghost hunter thing,” he says. He points in the vague direction of the stairs. “You free?”

“Yeah, sure. We need Adam?”

Matt shrugs. “He said he’ll be up in a minute.”

James nods and heads back to the attic with Matt.

“What do we need?” he asks. “The Machinima mask is over there, I think, and we left the dildo and blow up doll in the shower.”

“I know,” Matt says. He raises his eyebrows. “I saw the footage.”

It takes James a few moments to parse what the quirk in Matt’s lips mean, then cold terror settles over him.

“I didn’t cut the footage,” he says. It comes out as a whisper.

Matt doesn’t break eye contact. “Nope.”

James has to swallow a few times before he can speak. “Well this is awkward.” He means for it to come out light, but his voice cracks halfway through. He blushes.

“You didn’t mean for me to see,” Matt says. “But you recorded it for a reason. It was part of the thrill, wasn’t it? Adding another way you might get caught.”

His expression still hasn’t changed. James doesn’t know what to say, so he stays silent–waits for the other shoe to drop, for Matt to scold him on his lack of professionalism, to say he’s going to the higher-ups about it. To tell him to stay away from Adam.

“Well you got caught, James,” Matt continues. “How does it feel? Knowing that I saw you come just from blowing Adam, heard every sound the both of you made.”

Despite the situation, despite the mistake looming over James’ head, his cock twitches. He presses his lips together hard.

“Don’t, don’t put it like that,” he asks softly. This time he manages a grin. “It sounds exciting. Not the slap on the wrist it should be.”

Matt answers his grin with one of his own. “I’m not here to scold you.”

It has to be something in the way that he says it, because the fear is gone, replaced with–what is it, anticipation?

“Why are we here, then?” James asks. Matt reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

“I want you to get on your knees, James.”

Warmth spreads up James’ belly. He licks his lips, tries to gauge whether Matt’s being serious or not.

“Then what?”

There’s a soft tone as Matt presses record on his phone.

“Then you’re going to blow me.”

A burst of laughter from downstairs makes James shudder. They’re far closer to the stairwell than he and Adam had been–anyone could come upstairs and see them. The sensible thing to do would be to draw Matt deeper into the attic, find a dusty corner, but the phone is still trained on James’ face and all he wants to do is drop to his knees and do Matt’s bidding.

“What about Adam?” James makes himself ask. “Were you lying, or is he…?”

“I’m not here to answer your questions.” Matt tilts his head to survey James, lowers the phone. “Unless I’ve misread the situation and this isn’t something you want.”

James blinks. “Okay, so this is a scene thing? You’re not just blackmailing me into a blowjob?”

Matt looks horrified. “Did you think I was? Sorry, man, I was going for in control, not manipulative.”

James raises his hands. “No, no, it was good.” He laughs. “Great, now I’ve ruined the mood.”

Matt’s expression eases into something more contemplative. “If it helps,” he offers. “I asked Lawrence to come up with Adam.” He glances at his phone. “I didn’t really give either of them a set time, either, so they should be here any minute now.”

James laughs more out of startled arousal than amusement. “Wow,” he breathes. “That’s, uh, that’s dedication to the kink.”

Matt shrugs, smiles. “I try.”

James glances at the stairwell, weighs his oral skills against the clock, and thinks, yeah, I can probably make that. He gestures for Matt to come closer as he kneels.

“Alright,” he says. “Challenge accepted.”

Matt laughs but still steps forward and readjusts his phone to show James on his knees in the dust. James grins up at it as he undoes Matt’s belt and zipper just far enough to get his cock out. It’s too dim to catch any details, and James’ heart beats fast as he looks up at Matt.

“Turn the flash on,” he urges. Matt raises his eyebrows.

“The others will be able to see it,” he points out, but does it anyways.

Bathed in an incriminating spotlight, James leans in and takes Matt’s cock in his mouth. There’s no time for teasing, for finesse; he swallows Matt down immediately and begins to deepthroat him. Matt’s soft grunt is like music to James’ ears, and he works hard to keep pulling those sounds from him. They don’t belong in the attic above the office, they’re just asking to be caught—it’s thrilling, it’s incredible, and when the door at the bottom of the stairs creaks open James thinks he might cream himself.

He looks up without pulling back and can just make out Matt grinning on the other side of the light from the phone.

“I’m close,” he mouths. James sucks in a deep breath and works his throat around Matt. He feels a hand on the back of his head holding him there, feels Matt’s length twitching in his mouth, and then just as abruptly Matt drops his phone.

“Shit,” he says—not in a whisper, but out loud. James breaks away from him, rubbing at his mouth and taking his cue to pick up Matt’s phone as he tucks himself away.

“Got it,” he says, then laughs to cover up how raw his voice sounds. His entire body is singing when Lawrence and Adam crest the stairs, squinting in the light from Matt’s flash as James swings the phone towards them. It gives Matt enough time to do up his belt without being seen.

“That’s awful,” Lawrence complains, shielding his eyes. “Did you two have the flash on the entire segment?”

“We kind of had to,” Adam says dryly. “It’s not exactly ideal lighting up here.”

James meets his eyes over the phone. Adam raises his eyebrows, James does the same, and they both jump when Lawrence finds the light switch and bathes the room in light.

“Are we filming the interviews up here?” he asks. “Kind of shit, not offense.”

“Aww,” James says. “I have fond memories of this place.”

Adam snorts. Matt shakes his head. Lawrence looks between them all with his eyes narrowed.

“Is this a sex thing?” he demands.

James clears his throat and aims for innocence. “So, Bruce said you didn’t have sex in the office, but if this were a sex thing, would you—”

“No,” Lawrence says shortly.

“But I—”

“No,” Lawrence repeats. “There is a certain mindset I aim to cultivate in my partners and it’s not happening in the Machinima offices.”

“Oh?” Matt asks, sounding curious. James counts this as a win. He watches Lawrence and Matt’s gazes lock and has to keep himself from cheering.

“I’d be happy to show you,” Lawrence offers. His voice is lower than normal. James sees Adam look over in apparent interest, as well, and grins widely.

“Tonight?” James asks innocently. Lawrence looks back to him with raised brows.

“Who said you were invited?” he asks. “You’re getting greedy, James. I don’t know that you deserve to come over.”

James flushes. Beside him, Matt chuckles.

“We can make him watch,” he offers casually, as if James isn’t even there. “It would serve him right after what he did to poor Adam.”

James flicks his eyes to Adam, who’s watching Matt with rapt attention.

“Would you like that, Adam?” Lawrence asks. “Me and Matt fucking you while James is forced to watch, hands tied so he can’t even touch himself?”

James thinks, for the first time, that he may have gotten in over his head, but Matt is grinning and Lawrence is so calm and Adam’s blushing bright red and James thinks he’s probably okay with it.

Adam licks his lips before nodding jerkily. Lawrence smiles in answer and looks back to Matt.

“Is that all you needed up here, or?”

“Yeah,” Matt says easily. “Sorry to drag you away from your desk.”

Lawrence waves a hand absently. “Not a problem.” He looks over at James. “Don’t you have work to be doing?”

It’s not precisely a bark, but it’s certainly pointed, and James finds himself descending the stairs before he makes the conscious decision to do so. At the bottom of the staircase Lawrence’s hand on the back of his neck stops him.

“Have you ever worn a cock cage?” he asks. James goes to turn his head but Lawrence doesn’t let him.

“No,” he says, addressing it at the door.

“I think I’m going to put you in one tomorrow. Maybe it’ll help keep your mind on your work.”

“I doubt it,” James admits. Lawrence laughs softly before squeezing James’ neck and letting him go.

“We’ll see,” Lawrence says. “I think I can whip you into shape yet.”

He moves past James and through the door, leaving James staring and almost literally panting after him.  
James’ phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out rather than continue drooling. It’s a text from Matt.  
Close the door when you go, it says.

James glances back up the stairs, then remembers Lawrence telling him to go back to work.

“Fuck,” he mutters at the phone. “Goddamnit.”

It takes an enormous amount of willpower to step back into the offices, to close the door behind him without attempting to join Matt and Adam.

Lawrence grins at him when he returns to his desk, though, and pushes one ear of his headphones off.

“So, eight-thirty work for you?” he asks. James nods without bothering to consider. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t cancel for a crack at Matt, Adam, and Lawrence at the same time—even if he has to sit in the corner.

“Good,” Lawrence says. “I’ll let you get back to work, then.”

“Do either of you know where Peake is?” Sean asks from the other side of the room.

“Attic,” James answers, then blanches. He doesn’t know how to reneg fast enough and gets to watch Sean walk away.

“Stone cold,” Lawrence laughs. “Don’t think Peake is going to let you forget that.”

“Oh my god,” James whispers. “Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t mean to do that?”

“Nope,” Lawrence says promptly. “And neither will Matt.”

It sounds like a threat, it sounds like a promise, and either way… James is excited.

\----------

Lawrence is the only one out of them that refuses to play at work. Oh, he'll give them tasks and outfits and toys, but they're solitary assignments. It's not about the office, it's about the space, or so Lawrence says. There will always be something holding them back in public—something Lawrence refuses to abide by.

That's why, when Lawrence puts a hand on Joel's back during the livestream and says come home with me tonight, Joel has to struggle to keep his mind on the task at hand. As soon as Lawrence leaves him to his work with a grin and a nod, Joel pulls his phone closer and texts Sean.

Lawrence is taking me home tonight, he writes after a few tries with terrible typos. He sees Sean look up from his desk on the other side of the room and shoot Joel a thumb's up.

He's going to keep you there all weekend, Sean predicts. Hope you're ready.

Me too, Joel texts back. He's pulled away from his mounting anxiety by the chat complaining about an echo, and it's a relief to leave his phone and go over to adjust the boys' rig.

Bruce meets his eye when Joel leans in and grins in a way that suggests he knows what Lawrence has planned. Joel steps on Bruce's foot under the table and gets his ass swatted for his efforts.

"Watch it, Rubin," Bruce snaps, just this side of too mean, and Joel leans out of shot so the stream can't see him shudder. Bruce laughs immediately and Adam rolls his eyes.

"I don't understand you," he mutters.

"Shut up, Kovic!" James says in a startling good mimicry of Bruce. Adam blinks before squinting.

"Nope, not doing anything for me," he confesses. "Maybe if Bruce says it?"

"Aww, I don't want to be mean to Adam," Bruce laughs. "That'd be like kicking a puppy."

"Thanks, I guess?" Adam says. Joel leaves them to their banter and goes back to ensure the problem has been fixed.

It hasn't.

It takes two more tries to get the audio to a level that the boys can hear but doesn't cause an echo and by the time that's solved the video has somehow become desynced and Joel has to prompt another clap sync. He gets heckled for his efforts—of course he does, that's how it goes—but James and Adam are joining in with Bruce's brutal teasing and it's not a great combination, especially with chat still bitching.

By the end of the stream Joel has completely forgotten about Lawrence and Sean and retreats to his office rather than stick around like he normally does. He's staring at the Machinima main channel and trying to cool off when Lawrence steps into the room.

"Hey," he says. "I got Bruce to let us off early, let's go."

"What?" Joel asks blearily. Lawrence smiles and repeats himself patiently.

"You're coming over to my place," he says. "And we're leaving an hour early, aka now." He gestures to the door. "Can you give me a ride, or should I take my bike?"

Joel remembers Lawrence's invitation abruptly, the promise of a exciting weekend. Quite honestly, it... doesn't hold quite the same appeal at this point.

"Lawrence," Joel says, and he has to look at his desk rather than meet Lawrence's eyes. "I'm, I'm not really feeling it right now. I don't know that I'm really in the headspace for... anything."

Joel sees Lawrence shrug out of the corner of his eye.

"Okay," Lawrence says simply. "Should I take my bike or can you give me a ride?"

Joel huffs out a laugh despite himself. "Seriously?" he says. "Our first tryst and you're cool with netflix and chill?" He looks up and catches Lawrence looking honestly confused.

"You're my friend, Joel," he says. "I'd like to have sex and do scene things with you, sure, but if you want to get high and watch me play Assassin's Creed, that's equally as cool."

Joel looks down and half-expects to see a dagger sticking out of his chest with how acutely his heart hurts at that statement. He shakes his head.

"What'd you have to promise Bruce to get us both out early on a Friday?" he asks to distract from the feeling. Lawrence winces slightly but shakes his head.

"You'll find out sooner or later," he promises. "Come on, let's beat it."

They stick Lawrence's bike in the back of Joel's car and escape downtown LA before the traffic can get bad. As soon as they get into Lawrence's apartment Joel freezes.

"Is that a spreader bar?" he asks, staring at the dowel with cuffs at either end. Lawrence glances at it before toeing his shoes off and sliding them against the wall.

"Yeah, ignore it," he advises. "There's some stuff laid out, but it's not important right now. Actually, wait, let me put it away."

"No," Joel says hurriedly. "I mean, you don't have to. I'm curious."

Lawrence looks at him carefully before shrugging. "Alright. You want something to drink? I have some bourbon."

"Some bourbon" ends up being Joel's favorite brand chilled to perfection in a frosted glass. Joel nearly tears up as soon as it passes his lips.

"Lawrence," he breathes, collapsing back onto the sofa. "You sure know how to treat a girl."

Lawrence laughs and touches Joel's head gently.

"I try," he says dryly. "Would you like to change? I have some pajamas that should fit you."

Joel hums contentedly and pushes himself up to follow Lawrence into his bedroom. There's a matching set of blue silk pajamas on the bed, as well as a handsome leather collar and cuff set.

"Did you buy these for me?" Joel asks, taken aback.

"Don't be silly," Lawrence says. "I've had those for years."

"The pajamas, you idiot," Joel laughs. Lawrence shrugs unapologetically.

"Oh those, yeah."

Lawrence is smiling when Joel looks up and he sets down his glass of bourbon on the chest at the foot of Lawrence's bed to wrap his arms around Lawrence's waist and kiss him.

It's their first kiss, but it's warm and comforting and a lot like coming home—especially when Lawrence breaks off after only a few moments and leans forward to pick up Joel's glass.

"It's teak," he says defensively at Joel's look. "Put your fucking pajamas on, I'm going to go set up the xbox."

He lets Joel laugh him out of the room without so much as a blush. Joel strips off his jacket and tie, still grinning, and folds them out of deference to Lawrence's preferences before setting them on the chest. He pulls the pajama top on without unbuttoning it and pauses with his hands on his belt.

There's a pair of panties he hadn't noticed before, black and lacy. They're far enough off to the side that Joel isn't certain they're part of the ensemble, but decides to wear them anyway. He pulls on the silk bottoms after and sighs happily at how they feel against his skin.

His eyes land on the cuffs and collar and Joel debates for a long moment before picking them up and rejoining Lawrence in the living room.

"I know I said Assassin's Creed earlier, but I'm feeling like an honest platformer," Lawrence starts. He glances over at Joel and his hands tighten around his controller when he spots what Joel is holding.

"You don't have to," he starts. Joel shrugs.

"They're pretty," he says. "I'd like to."

Lawrence lifts his eyes to examine Joel's face and nods after a moment.

"Okay," he says, voice soft. "Okay, come here."

His hands are gentle as he settles the leather around Joel's neck. He picks a slot that still gives Joel plenty of room to breathe without letting him forget what he's wearing, and does the same for each wrist. He leaves Joel's arms independent but raises both hands to his mouth to kiss Joel's knuckles before leaning forward and kissing him on the mouth.

Without Joel's glass posing a threat to Lawrence's furniture, the kiss lingers, and Joel's feeling considerably more charitable towards the world when Lawrence pulls away.

"This is nice," Joel says on impulse. Lawrence smiles.

"I'm glad you like it," he admits.

"I can see why you don't mix play with work," Joel teases. "We'd never get anything done."

"Nope," Lawrence agrees. He reaches up to touch Joel's cheek gently, reverently. "And I'd be entirely okay with it, is the problem."

It's so different from what Joel has with Bruce, even though he's cuffed and collared, and he doesn't feel any sort of doubt when he leans in to kiss Lawrence again that he's crossing a power boundary. Lawrence accepts the kiss without question even when Joel clambers into his lap, wrapping his arms around Lawrence's shoulders to keep him in place as he presses increasingly hard kisses against his mouth and throat. Lawrence's hands are steady on his hips, still and calming and warm.

Joel doesn't worry about permissions when he starts grinding on Lawrence's lap, not even when Lawrence pulls his head away with a soft sound.

"What do you want?" he murmurs. Joel looks down at his dilated eyes, his kiss-swollen lips, and is enraptured by the sight.

"Wanna ride you," he says. "Right here, on the sofa, with your clothes on."

Lawrence leans up to catch his lips again before relaxing back down.

"There's lube and condoms in the endtable," he says, and Joel can't help but laugh because of course there are. Lawrence seems to appreciate the humor because he grins up at Joel before squeezing his ass.

"Let me eat you out?" he asks, and he is asking, seeking Joel's permission. Joel shudders and his hips stutter and he has to close his eyes to nod.

Lawrence stands with Joel still wrapped around his waist and lays him out on the couch. His hands are stready as he runs them up Joel's legs, massaging his thighs and belly before even dipping his fingers under Joel's waistband. By the time he gets Joel's pants off he's so hard it hurts as his erection digs into the lace of his panties.

Lawrence makes a low sound of appreciation when he spots what Joel is wearing and leans down to pull them off with his teeth.

Joel laughs, delighted, but it turns into a moan when Lawrence pushes his legs towards his chest and begins rimming him without preamble. Joel's head spins as Lawrence mouths at him, alternating between rough licks and soft prods, and when a slick finger slides in beside Lawrence's tongue Joel chokes on his gasp.

"Too much?" Lawrence asks, movements slowing. Joel shakes his head furiously and bears down until Lawrence starts fingering him in earnest. It isn't long before Joel's cock is weeping onto his stomach, leaving an unsightly wet patch on the silk that he can't bring himself to care about.

"I'm ready," he says, reaching for Lawrence's shoulders. "Oh my god, let me, let me see you."

"Yes," Lawrence says, and crawls up between Joel's knees to kiss him hard. Without pulling away he wraps his arms under Joel and pulls him back onto his lap, where Joel perches as he fumbles at the endtable.

"Here," Lawrence says, pressing a condom into Joel's hands. He goes for his belt and Joel doesn't mean to bat his hands away, but he does, and gets a breathy laugh for his trouble.

"I want," Joel says eloquently, and then Lawrence is tilting his head back and moaning softly as Joel pulls his cock free. God, but it's beautiful, and Joel wants it in his mouth but he wants it in his ass more. His hands fumble as he rolls the condom on but Lawrence lets him do it, only reaching down to hold the base of his cock steady.

"Lube?" Joel asks. Lawrence's other hand gropes along the sofa before he's slicking it down his cock, leaving a wet sheen in its wake. That's all Joel needs before he cants his hips to be at the right angle and starts pressing Lawrence's length inside him.

They both shudder when Joel bottoms out. Lawrence wraps the hand not covered in lube around the back of Joel's neck and pulls him down for a deep kiss. Joel whimpers at the change in angle and grinds down unthinkingly.

Lawrence lets him, lets him raise up and slam down again, lets Joel set the pace hard and fast because fuck if it isn't perfect.

"Look at you," Lawrence breathes, hand ghosting down Joel's face. He hooks a finger in the loop on Joel's collar and tugs lightly. "You're so gorgeous, Joel. So good."

It's a far cry from the vitriol Bruce spouts during sex but god if it still doesn't embarrass Joel. He feels himself blush and whines slightly when Lawrence continues.

"You're even better than I imagined," he says. "And I have, Joel, I've pictured you doing this, pictured you dressing up for me, riding me just like this." His voice is rough, ragged. "But you're so much better. So fucking good, you feel incredible, Joel, you're so good, so good for me."

Joel keens as he feels his body coiling tightly. "Can I," he gasps. "Can I touch myself?"

"God yes," Lawrence says. "Do it, Joel, Come for me. I want to see you."

Joel throws his head back as far as he can manage with Lawrence's hand still at this throat and moans brokenly as he brings himself to completion. He crumples immediately against Lawrence's chest, then moves his hips half-heartedly.

"Hey, no," Lawrence soothes. "Just relax."

His hand is warm where he's rubbing it up and down Joel's back, and he lets himself bask in the afterglow until his body protests at the still-present intrusion.

"Do you want," Joel starts. Lawrence kisses him on the side of the head and presses Joel back against the sofa before pulling out.

"Nope," he says simply. "You want some water?"

"Just my bourbon," Joel rasps. Lawrence chuckles but fetches his glass from its coaster and eases it into Joel's hand.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks, rubbing Joel's thigh absently. Joel sits up far enough to sip at his drink without choking and raises his eyebrows at Lawrence.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I feel amazing."

Lawrence grins at him.

"Excellent." He pulls away far enough to grab the neatly-folded dish towel from the coffee table and wipes his hands carefully before cleaning Joel up.

"So, like I was saying—you cool with me playing a platformer?"

It takes Joel a moment to realize that Lawrence has returned to their previous conversation and he can't help but laugh.

"Oh my god, Lawrence," he manages. "I don't, I don't care."

Lawrence smiles widely before picking up his controller from the other end of the sofa.

"Excellent," he says. "Mario it is."

\----------

Joel wakes up to Lawrence securing his still-cuffed hand to the side of the bed. He’s still half asleep, so he makes a vague noise and doesn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Good morning,” Lawrence says. He leans down and kisses Joel into awareness. He tastes like toothpaste and vaguely of coffee and Joel winces when he realizes his morning breath is probably on full display. Lawrence must realize what he’s thinking because he pulls back with a laugh and plants another kiss on Joel’s wrinkled nose.

“Sleep well?” he asks. Joel starts to turn his head to track Lawrence and finds his movement restricted by the collar. He finally opens his eyes. There’s a length of red rope holding his neck gently but inexorably at an angle off to the side.

On the wall in front of Joel there’s a mirror.

He looks blearily at his reflection until Lawrence interrupts him by crouching in Joel’s line of sight.

“Joel,” he says. “You know the red light, green light system?”

“Yeah,” Joel rasps. Lawrence is looking at him intently, so Joel goes on. “Red for stop, yellow for change, green for go on.”

Lawrence nods. “Good. Do you need anything before I start? A piss, a drink?”

“A drink of piss?” Joel finishes. Lawrence’s lips twitch. “I’m good.”

Lawrence touches the side of his face before standing and moving out of the way. Joel is left with just his reflection. Now that he’s more awake, he can see that the cuffs he’s been wearing since last night are clipped neatly to the bedframe. The metal rattles in a satisfying way when Joel shifts, making him think of dog kennels, of leashes.

“Let me know if your arms start hurting,” Lawrence says from the other side of the room. “Or your hips.”

This doesn’t make sense until Lawrence’s hands land on his legs and push them apart. Joel can hear metal clanking on wood–it’s the spreader bar from beside the door. He shudders and wishes he could look down to see Lawrence fixing it between his knees. It feels like he’s using rope–Joel hopes it matches the red hooked through his collar. He gets his answer a moment later because as soon as Lawrence finishes, he goes and takes the mirror from where it’s propped on the wall and twists it so Joel can see himself.

Joel’s stomach clenches when he realizes the image he makes. He’s on full display, spread out, and when he tries to pull his knees to his chest in defense it just bares his ass to Lawrence. Joel blushes and tries to turn away—when that fails he squeezes his eyes shut.

“No,” Lawrence says, and his hands are on Joel’s face. “You keep your eyes open, Joel. I want you to see yourself.”

He draws away. Joel blows out a breath and forces him to open his eyes, to take in his red face in the mirror. It’s back on the wall, and Lawrence is out of Joel’s line of sight.

“Lawrence?” he asks. His reflection looks pitiful, worried. Lawrence’s hand lands on his ankle.

“I’m not going to leave this room,” Lawrence tells him. “I’m just getting set up.”

He pulls away and Joel is left with only himself for company, a collared man on a bed staring at his reflection. He’s half-hard and embarrassed as hell and only getting harder for it.

“Lift your hips up,” Lawrence says. Joel hates how eagerly he obeys, and can’t meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Okay, relax.” Lawrence says. When Joel lowers his hips there’s something soft and plush beneath him—a towel, maybe, or a blanket.

“Remember—red and yellow you can say at any time,” Lawrence says. His voice is lower, closer to Joel’s crotch. “I’m going to keep checking in with you but you don’t have to wait for me.”

The bed bounces as Lawrence settles between Joel’s legs, lifts up the spreader bar to rest on his back. It puts Joel on display and he sees himself blush deeper in the mirror.

Lawrence’s mouth is warm on Joel’s asshole as he starts rimming him with slow, languid strokes. Joel’s eyes flutter; his reflection’s mouth opens in a silent gasp. Joel automatically goes to turn his head away, but the collar pulls him back and he’s forced to watch himself squirm under Lawrence’s ministrations. It feels, it feels fucking good, but Joel can’t give himself over to the sensation while he’s watching his expression shift between shame and pleasure.

He whines deep in his throat and finally, finally manages to jerk his head to face the ceiling.

Lawrence stops.

“Joel,” he says. “You good?’

“I don’t want to see myself,” he says.

“Yellow?” Lawrence presses. Joel hesitates.

“No, but—”

“Then look back at the mirror, Joel,” Lawrence says. His voice isn't—it isn’t hard, precisely, but it’s firm. Joel shudders before forcing himself to turn back to the mirror.

His eyes are dark, fully dilated. His cheeks are blotchy with arousal. He looks fucking wanton, is what he looks, and Joel loathes it, seeing himself, connecting an image with the moan that tears out of him when Lawrence slides a finger inside of him.

“You’re beautiful, Joel,” Lawrence murmurs. Joel highly disagrees, but his reflection still reacts to the words, still gasps and arches and flutters its eyes. “I could do this all day, just finger you and watch you go crazy.” He finds Joel’s prostate with unnerving accuracy and starts thrusting with this finger flat against it. The sound Joel makes is broken and the way his face contorts is obscene. He squeezes his eyes shut as Lawrence pushes another finger inside of him.

Lawrence stops.

“Joel,” he says patiently. “Open your eyes.”

“I don’t want to,” Joel says. He knows he sounds pathetic—can picture the pitiful expression on his face—but he hates it, he hates it, he hates watching himself and seeing what Lawrence sees. He’s never been able to handle mirrors in the bedroom, not even during plain vanilla sex.

“Joel,” Lawrence says. This time, his voice is sharp. “Open your eyes.”

The bite in the order makes Joel’s entire body flush, and something clicks. He does as Lawrence commands and meets his tear-filled eyes in the mirror and realizes that this is Lawrence’s version of humiliation. It feels like someone has pushed Joel off a very high cliff. He sucks in a choked breath.

Lawrence resumes stroking Joel’s prostate and quietly, helplessly, Joel begins to cry.

He watches the tears drip down his face, watches his nose runs, watches himself come apart under Lawrence’s steady ministrations and cries all the harder for it. It’s like every piece of poison Bruce has ever spat at him compounded into a single image, an image of himself, a reflection of a sniffling man with three fingers in his ass.

“Joel,” Lawrence says. “Joel, look at me.”

Joel doesn’t understand how he’s supposed to obey but turns his head anyways and finds that the rope that had been keeping his head bound has been untied. Lawrence is coiling it with one hand while he fucks Joel with the other.

Joel gasps and thrashes when Lawrence eases in his pinky.

“Look at you,” Lawrence breathes. It doesn’t sound like an order, but Joel turns his head anyways and looks at the mirror. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Joel. You drive me crazy.”

Joel looks at his tear-swollen eyes, his open mouth, and shudders all the way down to his toes. Lawrence twists his hand inside him and Joel can feel his knuckles against his rim.

The figure in the mirror keens and Joel feels a spike of arousal and shame at the sight.

“You’re doing so well, taking me like this,” Lawrence praises. “You’re such a good boy, Joel. So good for me.”

Joel wants to look back at Lawrence but he’s transfixed by watching his reflection arch and writhe against the sheets as Lawrence’s hand continues to edge its way inside.

“I can’t wait to show you,” Lawrence says. His voice is low, husky. “I can’t wait to show the others. How do you think Bruce will react when he sees you like this? With my fist in your ass?”

There are spots in Joel’s vision as he thrashes, but the stretch isn’t sharp, isn’t anything but a pressure that feels like it’s going to take Joel apart. Lawrence stops pushing and twisting but keeps his fingers against Joel’s prostate, rubbing as he continues to speak.

“Look at me, Joel—look at me.”

Joel keens but takes deep breaths until he can focus on Lawrence. Lawrence smiles warmly.

“Look over my shoulder,” he says. Joel does so and gasps when he realizes what the red light means.

“I’m recording you,” Lawrence confirms. “Smile, Joel. Show the others how much you’re enjoying yourself.”

Joel doesn’t know that he can muster up a smile but it turns out to be irrelevant considering Lawrence reshapes his hand and pushes his thumb in at the same moment. Joel’s head snaps back as his body seems to dissolve besides where Lawrence is inside him, where his other hand has taken Joel’s dick and is stroking up it roughly.

Joel hits the water at the bottom of the cliff and comes with a hoarse scream.

He thinks he must pass out for a few seconds, because when Joel next has awareness Lawrence is unhooking his hands from the bedframe and is drawing Joel into the circle of his arms. The spreader bar is already off and pushed to the bottom of the bed.

“You fisted me,” Joel tries to say, but it comes out as an unintelligible grunt. Lawrence’s hands are warm where he soothes them down Joel’s back.

“I didn’t catch that,” he says.

“Din’ matter,” Joel manages. Lawrence begins to massage out the soreness in Joel’s shoulders without making him shift.

“You okay?” he asks.

Joel gets his head around to look at Lawrence and says, as earnestly and as clearly as he can, “Fuck you.”

Lawrence raises his eyebrows.

“We can arrange that,” he says thoughtfully. Joel holds on to his anger rather than let himself be caught up in that image.

“What was that shit with the mirror?” he demands. “That was, that was embarrassing.”

“Yes,” Lawrence agrees. “That was the point.” At Joel’s continued look, he smiles. “The masochist says hurt me. The sadist says no. I told you I would humiliate you, Joel, and I did.”

Joel glares for all of three seconds before he remembers the all-encompassing shame that watching himself had elicited. It had been so much deeper than what Bruce did to him, but cathartic, too.

“Fuck you,” Joel says again, but gentler. “I’m going to need a year to recover before we do that shit again.”

“The fisting, or the humiliation?”

Joel snorts. “Humiliation.” He goes to sit up—his hips, his ass, his everything aches. “Both,” he grunts. Lawrence is there to help him stand, get his bearings.

“Let me make you breakfast,” he murmurs, kissing Joel on the side of the head. “Omelets with a side of ibruprofen.”

“And coffee,” Joel insists. Lawrence laughs.

“And coffee.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAVE SOME SPOOLTAG WATERSPORTS DESPERATION

"You want me to do what?" Sean says—squeaks, really, because he seems to be having trouble drawing full breaths with the way Lawrence is looking at him. Lawrence doesn't react to his tone, just presses the water bottle more firmly into Sean's hands and repeats himself.

"I want you to drink this," he says patiently. "And when you're done, fill it up and drink it again."

"What if I'm not thirsty?" Sean questions. Lawrence smiles and leans down and—oh, he's kissing Sean, even though they're at work, even though Lawrence _never_ kisses them at work. Sean melts into the touch, the hand at the small of his back, the thigh between his legs, and whines when Lawrence pulls back.

"You're going to be thirsty," Lawrence promises.

Sean giggles before he can stop himself and gets a peck on the nose for his troubles.

He doesn't think much of the task until around noon, when he's considering pausing the video he's working on to go use the bathroom. He's taking off his headphones and standing when Lawrence's hands land on his shoulders and push him back into his chair.

"Hey, Lawrence," Sean greets, and before he's ready for it, Lawrence is tipping him back in his chair and kissing him Spiderman style. James titters from across the room, but Sean hardly notices; he's too busy being kissed into breathlessness for the second time that day.

"Hey, Spoole," Lawrence says sweetly, still looking down at Sean. Something lands on the desk and Sean risks a glance up; it's his bottle of water, full again.

"Oh, thanks," Sean says, then, "but I'm not, I kind of need to pee, actually."

He doesn't know what he's expecting, but Lawrence's warm smile isn't it.

"I know," Lawrence says. "That's the point, Spoole."

Sean's cock twitches in interest just at the low tone before his mind catches up to the words and what they mean and his bladder twinges in sudden panic.

"Lawrence," he starts, trying to sit up, to turn around, but Lawrence moves one hand from holding Sean's chair to his lower belly and Sean's gasp is embarrassingly high-pitched.

"Sean," Lawrence echoes, clearly teasing. Sean barely hears it over the now-sharp imperative to pee. 

"Wh-what are you doing?" Sean asks softly. "I, I—"

"Don't worry, Spoole, it'll be okay," Lawrence promises, and eases his hand away from Sean's belly. The pressure eases but leaves a dull aching in its place. Lawrence drapes himself around Sean to snag the water bottle from his desk and uncaps it before pressing the top to Sean's lower lip.

"Drink," he orders softly.

Sean whimpers but does as he's told, and each swallow is like a cold fist of dread tightening around his lower belly.

"So good," Lawrence says once the bottle is empty. He kisses Sean's cheek, then stands. "I'll leave you to your editing.

Sean's left with his hands white-knuckled on the edge of his desk and his knee bouncing rapidly as Lawrence walks away, takes his seat, and resumes work without so much as a backwards glance.

"Spoole," Bruce says from behind him. Sean turns, expecting some comfort or explanation, but gets only a wide grin where Bruce is still at his desk.

"Get back to work," he says.

Not knowing what else to do, Sean turns back to the video and starts editing clumsily.

By the time Matt approaches him about lunch, Sean's hands are shaking slightly and he's hunched over his keyboard. He's thinking very hard about everything except his dick and his full bladder but that comes to an abrupt end when Matt pulls his chair gently away from his desk and spins Sean until he can kneel between his legs.

"Matt," Sean says, not a little desperately. "What are you—"

Matt silences him with as a chaste kiss and Sean is stupid enough to think that's it until a palm grinds down on his cock through his jean and Sean yelps and nearly knees Matt in the chest. His eyes roll back as he works his kegels harder than they've ever been worked, clenches his teeth as if that'll help stop the stream struggling to escape, and the sweet release when Matt lifts the pressure is enough to make tears spring to Sean's eyes.

"Matt, why?" Sean gasps, betrayed, trembling harder than ever. Matt is watching him with wide eyes when Sean drags his gaze away from the ceiling.

"I wanted to see," Matt offers. Sean glares at him until he catches sight of Lawrence over Matt's shoulder, turned in his chair to survey them and clearly, beautifully, _achingly_ hard in his jeans.

Sean swallows hard as he watches Lawrence watch him, suspects his nose might be starting to bleed with the force of the blood rushing to his face when Lawrence trails a hand up from his knee and presses the heel of his hand into his own erection.

Sean's cock and bladder throb in sympathy and Sean makes a noise that sounds broken even to his own ears.

"Hey," Matt says softly, and Sean struggles to switch his gaze back to Matt. "Hunching doesn't help, straighten up some."

Sean doesn't react until Matt is pressing him upright in his seat, and blessedly, some of the pressure eases. He swallows hard and breathes out a slight sigh of relief before Matt is stripping off his over-present jackets and piling them on Sean's lap.

"Matt, what—" Sean starts, but Matt hushes him.

"It's easier when you're warm," he promises. "And if you—I mean, don't worry about them getting dirty."

Sean needs to pee so badly he feels dizzy when Matt gets up, moves away.

Getting them dirty...? Like, pissing himself...?

Sean doesn't know if his face feels hot because he's stopped breathing, because he's mortified, or because he still really needs to pee. That being said... the warmth does help, and keeping his back flat against the chair is enough to get Sean through another hour of haphazard editing before he realizes he's been watching the same thirty-second clip for the past ten minutes.

Lawrence seems to have realized it, too, because someone is removing Sean's headphones and the hoodies piled on his laps and the rush of cool air is almost shocking enough that Sean pisses himself then and there.

"Shh, Sean," Lawrence soothes, pulling Sean to his feet, and then into his arms. "Come on, thirty seconds, you can make it."

"I can't," Sean says, and his voice cracks on the words—but he _can't,_ he can feel his body jerking, feels so full and aching that he's cramping hard with every step that Lawrence makes.

"Larr," Sean begs, "Please, I can't, just put me—I don't want to, not on you, please just—"

"You're going to make it," Lawrence says firmly, and Sean shudders hard before clenching down with everything he has. He can only hear the sound of blood rushing in his ears, his own haggard breaths, doesn't notice when Lawrence pushes into a bathroom and sets Sean on his feet. 

It's only when cold air hits Sean's naked cock that he gasps and, without meaning to, lets go. It's—it's fucking orgasmic, the gradual cessation of pressure, the tension that bleeds out from his spine and ass and legs, the feeling that he can _finally breathe again_ as Lawrence holds him up with one arm around his chest and his dick with the other.

When Sean can finally think straight Lawrence's mouth is on his neck and he's rock hard against Sean's ass and Sean is, he's—dazed, if he's honest, and feels like he's just had ten orgasms wrung from him. 

"Did I do it?" he rasps, and Lawrence chuckles against his skin before stroking Sean once, base to tip. He's oversensitive and whines, but Lawrence does it again with a murmured _look for yourself_ and Sean is forced to tilt his head from his contemplation of the ceiling. 

He gets to see Lawrence tuck him back into his boxers—his gloriously dry boxers—and zip him back into place and Sean is so absurdly proud of a basic motor function that he nearly bursts into tears.

"That was so good," Lawrence says, petting down Sean's chest. "You were amazing, Sean."

Sean's legs are still wobbly when Lawrence helps him stand straight, leads him to the sink to wash both their hands.

It's only when Sean's braced against the counter that he looks up, meets Lawrence's eyes in the mirror.

"What if," he starts. "What if I hadn't made it?"

Lawrence tilts his head to the side, smiles slowly.

"Why do you think Matt was teasing you?" he asks softly. "He was torn between wanting you to manage it and pissing all over his clothes."

"What?" Sean says, still somewhat lightheaded. Lawrence touches the side of his face with fingers still wet from the sink, strokes down his cheek until the trickle of water pierces the fog in Sean's brain.

"Oh," he says dumbly. "Oh, I... see."

"No matter what happened, it would have been fine," Lawrence promises, stepping forward to wrap Sean into a warm embrace. "We're all here for you."

"Yeah," Sean says distantly, body heavy with satisfaction. "I know."

**Author's Note:**

> find me at egocentrifuge.tumblr.com


End file.
